


Backswing

by Lost_gallifrey



Series: Selected exerpts from 'The skyhold chronicles: It gets weirder.' [3]
Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Explicit Sexual Content, Humor, M/M, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Party Banter, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, background Adaar/Harding, background Dorian/Cullen, iron Bull doesn't like dealing with feelings, random violence towards inanimate objects, sex and feels, smashed bandits, solas has puritanical views of spirits
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-31
Updated: 2015-08-31
Packaged: 2018-04-18 06:20:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,596
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4695401
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lost_gallifrey/pseuds/Lost_gallifrey
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After a run-in with bandits on the Storm coast nearly becomes deadly, Iron Bull realizes his feelings for Cole run deeper than he was comfortable admitting. Really not much plot here folks, just smut and random snark.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Backswing

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Lavavulture](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lavavulture/gifts).



> Inspired by both a kinkmeme prompt requesting life-affirming Cole/Iron Bull smut, and by the ever-talented Lavavulture who got me hooked on this pairing in the first place.

“You know,” Dorian pauses as an arc of fire sends a foe into screaming retreat. “There are far too many bandits in this miserable little territory. One would almost think they _enjoy_ clothing that never gets dryer than 'damp' and socks that mold in the night.”

“Maybe they just like to hear you complain, vint.” Iron Bull grunts as a bandit's sword grates against the notched edge of his axe. He forces the blade up and Cole comes in under his raised arms, one dagger severs the big tendon behind the knee and as the man buckles, howling, the second opens his abdomen from hip to hip. It just takes one swing to end him after that. “Nice, kid!”

“Could we get through one fight without you two bickering?” Adaar sounds terse and irritated. For all her toughness, Bull knows she misses the comforts of Skyhold, and would much rather be back at camp making eyes at that cute, freckled scout.

“Look out!” Dorian warns as the bandit leader, a massive human in armor that is disturbingly immune to the fire that has sent his men into shrieking flight, plows into the fight. 

The man comes at them in a rush, faster than seems possible in the mountain of iron plate he's wearing. A mace catches Bull on the shoulder and he struggles to bring his ax up to block the next strike, knowing that he's going to feel those bruises in the morning. Maybe he can get Cole to rub some of that elfroot salve on there later in the privacy of their own tent, then maybe he can put those talented hands to other uses. And then Bull knows he really has gone mad, fantasizing about a scrappy little demon during a perfectly good battle....

Dorian tries again with the fire and Bull has to jump back when the bandit's armor ignites. “Be careful with that!” he barks, then grunts with the impact as the mace meets the somewhat mistreated edge of his ax again. Nope, this guy doesn't mind if he's on fire or not.

Two solid hits to the helmet and the bandit just keeps coming. He takes an overhead swing at Bull, then staggers as Cole drives a dagger in under the armor on his back. It should have brought him down, but instead he's spinning, mace coming up in a deadly arc. Its a move Iron Bull has seen Krem execute a hundred times, and the result is as predictable here as it is on the practice field.

The impact of the blow snaps Cole's head back so hard that Bull is horribly sure it's broken his neck. He goes instantly limp, collapsing with absolutely none of his usual grace; daggers tumbling from nerveless hands and eyes rolled back to slits of white. Someone is roaring, and Bull is vaguely aware that it's him, howling out his rage as he rains blows on the bandit leader.

When Bull finally stops swinging, he's almost embarrassed by the mush he's reduced the bandit to. The feeling is eclipsed by something indescribable when he sees that Adaar has Cole sitting up while she pokes at a bloody gash on the side of his head. It's relief, and something else that settles in Bull's chest and makes it hard to breath. 

“Stop squirming!” Adaar slops half a canteen of water over Cole's face and wipes the worst of the blood away with the back of her hand. “There, not so bad. Lucky you've got a hard head, Cole.”

“That hurts,” Cole mumbles, looking paler than usual and a bit dazed.

“Well yes,” Dorian looks up from rummaging through a dead bandit's pockets and holds up a garish plaidweave handkerchief as if it's an affront to his very existence. “Getting hit in the head tends to hurt. That's why most people tend to avoid large, angry people swinging chunks of metal around.”

“Oh.” Cole considers Dorian's words and looks slightly worried. “But I don't want to avoid The Iron Bull.”

“Hah!” Adaar barks an appreciative laugh and ruffles Cole's bloody hair. “I think you can make an exception for Bull, if he's quite done mashing humans.”

“I'm sure _some_ mashing is considered a benefit.” Dorian says sweetly, ignoring Bull's glower with studied innocence.

Bull knows that to suggest that Cole isn't perfectly capable of walking back to camp was ridiculous, but somehow it feels better to scoop him up anyway. He's certain that Cole's hurting more than he's letting on since he doesn't even protest being cosseted, just wraps long arms around Bull's neck and buries his face against his shoulder.

“That's almost sickeningly cute.” Dorian confesses to a grinning Adaar in a stage-whisper that could probably be heard in the Free Marches.

“Aww, you wanna get carried too, Pavus?” Adaar makes a grab for the back of Dorian's robes, laughing as he turns to rap her knuckles with his staff. “I'll have to tell Cullen...”

“You'll do no such thing!”

Iron Bull marches out ahead, ignoring the occasional pointed remark from the vint, and Adaar's lunatic grin. It's easier to concentrate on Cole's breath, soft and regular against the bare skin of his shoulder.

_____________________________________________________________________________

 

As the driftwood breaks apart like old, dry bone, Iron Bull halts, heaving in a few deep breaths before pummeling the rest of the log into scattered pulp. 

Hitting things is usually the best way to work things out, but the trail of battered rocks and trees isn't making Bull feel any better about the day. The low, sick feeling in his gut is clearly not broken ribs or bad fish....it started the second Cole got hit and no amount of bludgeoning seems to make it go away. He's been at it for hours now, with nothing to show for it but a ruined ax and sore shoulders.

Its not like Bull isn't used to Cole taking a few hits in a scrap. He's tougher than he looks, and frighteningly, inhumanely fast, but anyone fighting in close is going to wear scars from it sooner or later. It's that this time he wasn't sure the kid was getting back up....

“But I'm fine, The Iron Bull.”

Despite the fact that they've been fucking for a few months, Cole still possesses the unique ability to make Bull feel like he's having a heart attack. Sometimes Cole's sneakiness comes in handy, like when he got it into his exceptionally weird head to suck Bull off under the main hall table during a presentation by Orlesian diplomats. Other times, Bull would be enjoying some personal time until realizing that Cole had been silently staring at him him for the past hour.

“Fuck! Make some noise, kid!” Bull grimaces at the blunted, misshapen head of his ax and heaves it out over the roiling ocean. “What are you doing all the way out here anyway?”

“Varric woke me up and you weren't there.” Cole blinks up at Bull as if that's a perfectly reasonable explanation for following him for miles down the beach. He's rain-soaked, inexplicably barefoot, and wearing a ridiculous, flimsy, one-armed shirt that's clearly Dorian's. “I could hear you. In your head I kept falling.”

“Yeah, well....I've seen bigger guys than you not get up after taking a hit like that.” Bull kicks at a piece of broken wood so he doesn't have to reexamine the moment.

The rain and sea-spray isn't doing Cole's fine hair any favors, and Bull can't help but wind his fingers into the sodden mess and pull his head to the side. There's a neat line of stitching from his temple to just above his ear, Krem's work by the looks of it. Bull traces it with his thumb, and in an embarrassing moment of sentiment, bends to press his lips to the carefully knotted thread.

Cole shivers, the hitch in his breathing suggesting it's not from the cold. “Really?” Bull rumbles, amused despite his worry. “Not sure this is what the boss meant when she said 'take it easy.'”

“I'm battered, bruised but not broken.” Cole sounds so petulant that Iron Bull can't help but indulge him a bit. He kisses him carefully, gently, considerate of the fact that, demon or no, the kid must be damned sore. 

Iron Bull assumes Cole is on board with his slow, sweet touches right up until he makes an impatient noise and reaches up to grab a horn for leverage, growling into Bull's mouth and biting him hard enough on the lip to draw blood. 

“Oh, so it's going to be like that is it?” Despite how careful he's trying to be, Bull can't help the thrill that goes through him when Cole looks up, eyes wild and body sliding sinuously against him. Solas for all his perpetual hard-on for all things fade related never sees Cole like this....at least, Bull hopes he doesn't.

“No.” Cole says, voice low and fierce. _”Yours.”_

It's almost frightening how that admission sends a jolt straight to Bull's cock. He's never been a possessive guy, always content to keep things casual until now. Until Cole, with his lack of boundaries and his freaky demon mind-shit, arrived and turned his life upside down. “That's right,” Bull agrees, sliding his hands up the back of Cole's shirt, over cool, wet skin. _”Mine.”_

Once he's started, Bull can't keep his hands still. He hauls Cole's borrowed shirt off so fast it comes apart in his big hands, he flings the ruined garment over one shoulder as his fingers find cold-pebbled nipples. The garment destruction earns him a reproachful look that switches almost instantly to eager bliss as Bull runs a hand over the erection that's straining against Cole's leathers. 

“Please, please, yes.” Cole urges as Bull cups his hands under his ass and lifts him up so he can wrap his legs around the Qunari's waist. He murmurs something nonsensical, and there's a sharp sting as he nips at the side of Bull's muscled neck before twisting up to kiss him, open mouthed and wanton. 

Bull can't blame the kid for being a bit overeager, its not like the last week has been easy on either of them. The boss had hauled half of Skyhold out to the storm coast on her 'team building and bandit eradication tour', making privacy a luxury that nobody really had any of. Iron Bull and Cole had wound up sharing a tent with Solas of all people, proving that the boss had a truly perverse sense of humor. 

The enthusiastically carnal nature of Bull's relationship with Cole was widely known, due in part to Cole's rather....vocal participation, and nobody disapproved of it more than Solas. He had slept stoically between the two of them, and adopted an expression of stony martyrdom if they so much as held hands in his presence. Personally, Iron bull thought the elf could do with a good fucking, but doubted he could unclench long enough to enjoy it.

It was that silent supervision, among other interruptions, that had prevented Iron Bull from enjoying his favorite activity: namely plowing Cole into the mattress at least once a day. The only time they'd had was a rough, quick fuck against a tree while an oblivious Blackwall helped the boss with her ongoing mission to relieve the coast of every elfroot plant that had ever grown there. 

Ignoring the wet rocks and clinging sand, Bull eases down onto his back, his arms full of wriggling demon. Cole has Bull's chest harness off in seconds, moaning against his skin as he follows where it had been with his tongue. He rolls his hips insistently against Bull's hardening cock, looking almost betrayed when the Qunari grips wide hands around his waist to still him.

“Easy,” Bull orders, letting his voice drop a few octaves when Cole gives him a mutinous look. “Slow down, I want to enjoy this.”

“But I want you _now_! Cole says plaintively, and Bull realizes the kid is reading his own desperation as well as desire. _“Open and eager, touch all the parts of him, then make him mine.”_

“Exactly,” Bull agrees, tracing his thumb along the front of Cole's leathers and feeling him twitch at the touch. “I want all of you, so get these off before I rip them off.”

Bull undoes his belt with eager hands, giving his freed cock a few strokes as he watches Cole struggle to unlace rain-soaked leathers and peel them off his long legs. He's an odd, ungainly creature sometimes, but Bull loves what he can do with that lean, flexible body. Loves taking him until he fucks all other thoughts out of that weird, pale head except his.

“They don't want to leave my feet,” Cole huffs with irritation, finally kicking the last stubborn pant leg free. He allows Bull to tug him down into his lap and plasters himself against the Qunari's broad chest like he's trying to burrow into him.

Bull smooths his hands over the broad planes of Cole's shoulders, then down over the long angles of his back. Cole arches up against his hands, breath hitching into a low moan as Bull grabs his hips and grinds up against him.

These days it's unusual for Bull to not have a little bottle of oil in his pack, and he curses not having it now. He knows he can take his time, open Cole up slowly with tongue and fingers until he can push in without hurting him, but that isn't what he wants now. It's more than the ache in his cock that makes Bull want to bury himself in the tight heat of Cole's body. He wants to feel his pulse, hear every needy little noise the friction drags out of him....it's almost humiliating how much he wants every part of his demon. The Tamassarans would have sent him to reeducation so fast he would have left his horns behind.....

“No. I wont let them.” Cole tells Bull solemnly, as if he was expecting Tamassarans to arrive any second. “I want...I want the same. Pressure, and then pressing in. Bright until it all bursts.”

That simple entreaty makes Bull groan, and he moves his hands lower, to spread Cole and press urgent fingers into waiting flesh. Cole's tight, but unexpectedly slick and the look he gives Bull from under his bedraggled hair is shyly pleased. 

“When did you...”

“I waited, wanting. I tried to make it you in my head.” Cole ran light fingers down his stomach, grazing across his cock. “But it wasn't enough, I wanted you, The Iron Bull.”

“Damn,” Bull said a bit wistfully. “I would've liked to watch that.” The mere thought of it makes Bull have to close his eye for a moment, it was an image he was going to file away as inspiration for those days when Cole was off _helping_...or playing with nugs, instead of coming up to Bull's room at the tavern. 

“You like it even though you weren't there?” Cole sounds wondering, then gasping in sharp pleasure as Bull replaces his fingers with the wide head of his cock.

“Imagining you fingering yourself, getting yourself wet just for me?” Bull rubs his thumbs over Cole's hips, soothing the trembling muscles as he pushes into him full and fast. “Yeah, I like that.”

Bull knows he's probably going to have some very interesting bruises on his back from the rocky shoreline, but he can't find it in himself to care. It doesn't even matter that the encroaching waves are threatening to soak them both. All that matters is the heat around him, the desperate, jerky way Cole meets every one of his upward thrusts, his thin face flushed with pleasure. 

Cole's a different creature this far away from the distracting thoughts and minds of their companions; more focused on what he is capable of feeling rather than everyone else's hurts. His body moves with an intensity that is purely his own, lithe and flexible in an effortless way that is almost inhuman. He spreads his long-fingered hands out over Bull's chest for balance, pressing back against every deep thrust as needy little noises catch in his throat.

“Touch yourself for me,” Bull demands roughly, pulling down on Cole's hips and burying himself as deep as he can go. “I want to watch you come.”

Almost tentatively, Cole runs a hand up his weeping cock, finding a rhythm as Bull fucks deep into him. He's shaking with the intensity of it, free hand dragging down his chest, ragged nails catching and leaving red scratches on his cold-roughened skin. He scrapes a thumb across one nipple and gasps, hips jerking against Bull's powerful grip. 

“That's right,” Bull encourages as Cole strokes himself faster, fingers slick with rain and pre-come. “That's beautiful. Come for me, kadan.”

Cole looks almost startled when he does, eyes wide as his body tightens in instinctive response to Bull's encouragement. He gives a short, breathy cry as he shudders, every muscle pulled taught in a moment of perfect ecstasy before relaxing into quivering bliss. Bull can feel the familiar rise of his own climax, and gathers a newly pliant Cole more firmly in his arms, moving him easily until he comes into him with a contended groan.

The tide is coming in, and Bull knows they should move. Without the desperate heat of desire to drive him, he's becoming all too aware of every aching bruise from the day's fight, and the edge of a rather sharp rock poking him in the spine. 

Even though Bull can feel him shivering, Cole is obviously reluctant to move as well. He always likes it when Bull stays inside him, and curls against his chest making soft, contented noises. “You called me something different.” He mumbles against Bull's neck, a hand sneaking up to stroke along one horn. “Kadan...kaaa-dan. You never said it before, it teased, tantalized, touching your tongue but still tangled on the inside. It's not my name, but it echoes behind when you say it.”

Iron Bull sighs, he hadn't meant to blurt that out. “It's....complicated..”

“Is it?” Cole tilts his head and looks down at Bull curiously. “You think it a lot, it means...”

“It means what it means, kadan. So don't go making it weird.” 

Ignoring the cold seawater that's splashing them both, Bull kisses any further questions off Cole's eager tongue. He tastes of the cool sea air and wriggles so enthusiastically that Bull thinks maybe they don't have to move just yet after all.

___________________________________________________________________________

 

Bull tries for a casual entry into camp, but it's almost impossible to keep the self satisfied grin off his rugged face. Cole is slinking along at his heels looking entirely too tousled and content to be coincidental. Varric is on sentry duty and shakes his head as Bull does his best to casually saunter past. 

“Very subtle, Tiny.” Varric flat out laughs at the sight of them. “I'd get cleaned up before Chuckles sees you, kid, unless you want another lecture on the pure nature of spirits.”

Cole flees from that threat so abruptly that Bull can't help but laugh as he follows him in search of dry clothes. 

By the time they Bull ambles over to the campfire, led by the tantalizing aroma of camp-stew, Cole is listening wide-eyed to Dorian's latest melodramatic rant on the subject of his utterly one-sided, non-relationship with Commander Cullen. It was a subject that amused everyone except Dorian, who was in a perpetual state of sexual frustration, and Cullen who was hilariously oblivious.

“I even wrote him a letter, a _handwritten_ letter. It was utterly charming, Cassandra even assisted..... not that I needed the help.”

“I did not!” Cassandra protests hotly, a telltale blush coloring her cheeks.

Bull chuckles and sits down on a log, smiling at Cole tucked up by his feet and ignoring Solas' pointed throat-clearing as he bends down to kiss his tangled hair.

“Do you want to know what he wrote back?” Dorian continues with injured melodrama, waving a much folded piece of parchment.

“Yes! As long as it's dirty!” Adaar enthuses, bouncing a blushing Scout Harding on her knee, and elbowing Blackwall when he mumbles 'no' dourly beside her.

“It isn't what I expected,” Dorian pouts, but Bull notices he carefully re-folds the letter anyway. “He could have at least said something personal, instead of just going on about requisitions and supply orders.”

“Coming from Curly, that was probably his idea of erotica,”Varric jokes. 

“Go see him with a supply report on your bits,” Adaar suggests with a wicked grin that, given her current vitaar, looks nothing short of terrifying. “That'll make him stand at attention!”

Cole yawns sleepily and lets his head drop to rest on Bull's knee, sighing contentedly as Bull settles a hand on the back of his neck, thumb rubbing over the soft skin below his ear. Solas loudly clears his throat several times until Vivienne turns to fix him with an icy stare.

“Solas, dear,” Vivienne smiles with sweet poison. “You sound most unwell, allow me to suggest a restorative tea.”

Bull ignores Solas' sour response, and the laughter it inspires. He drops his hand to the open collar of Cole's shirt and rests his palm over his chest, feeling the steady, reassuring thrum of his pulse under his fingers. _Kadan._ Bull forms the word in his mind, knowing that Cole can snatch the thought as easily as he breathes. _Kadan, my heart._


End file.
